2024.07.08: Suddenly some goddamned Sabbat
A few nights later, two people - one rather taller than the other - walk into the district from somewhere. They have taken necessary precautions to not be followed from where they started. Their clothing is nondescript, intended to hide their faces and to blend into the night. They are talking as they walk. "So, I have at least two backup plans. Your operation, your primary plan." The smaller of the two people has a higher voice, either a woman or a kid. The taller man replies in a rich baritone. "Our objective is house in the dossier, which he has. I have a key which should let me in. We go in, look for any signs of where this ghoul may have been taken or gone. We take any data that we can find. In and out in five minutes, try to minimize attention." He pulls his phone out, and logs into the CCTV network, and shows the local coverage to the woman beside him. "There is camera coverage on the front door, but the camera cycles on a 45 second pivot, so we'll have a window of about 30 seconds to get inside without attracting attention. The camera is mounted on a post across the street. If we approach from the street side, and behind this line..." indicating a position on the phone's screen. "We won't be seen approaching the house. If there is oncoming traffic, we wait until the next window of opportunity. We leave by the back door, walk straight through the backyard and the rear neighbor’s house, onto the adjoining street and leave the area how we came. I have a bag for a laptop if we find one. What are your backups?" "The silver tongue of my ancestors." She shrugs. "Well, I've seen it work magic before." A smile. "Shall we?" "After you." He nods, quietly, and opting to save sentimentality for after the job, walks down the street. His usual purposeful stride is replaced by something more casual, somewhat slouched, hands free. The smaller individual has been casual sauntering the entire time, hands shoved into the pockets of her hoodie. They reach the post with the camera - Marcus checks the feed on his phone - watching for when their approach will be clear. "Thirty seconds, on my mark." A pause, he watches as the camera moves to the correct position. His hand flashes a quick count signal and he whispers. "Three. Two. One. Mark." And in a flash, he is sprinting across the street towards the house. The woman in the hoodie proceeds to... look both ways before stepping off the curb, not hurrying at all. Her chin drops slightly, shadowing her face even more. Just a normal human doing normal human things. He looks towards the hoodied woman as the strolls across the street, before looking to make sure they are not seen. Seeing nobody out at this hour of the morning, he quickly mounts the steps of the house and unlocks the door with the key he has been given, waiting for his companion before opening the door and stepping inside. Not hurrying, but not dawdling, the accomplice steps across the threshold. If the foyer is not a disaster, it will be a pleasant surprise. Everything is quiet. Indirect light from the street oozes through the gaps in the blinds. The house has that sort of stillness that only empty houses have, that unnerving, breathless silence of transitional spaces. Marcus quickly closes and locks the door, checking to ensure that the camera across the street did not pick up the entry, and scanning the house for any signs of a network or electronic broadcast His companion, meanwhile, proceeds to do what people do when they come home. Or at least she attempts to. Find the light switch. Avoid looking suspicious. Just normal humans doing normal human things. No need to call the cops. Everything is fine here. The man places a hand on the small woman's arm as she reaches for the light switch, giving his head a gentle shake, and pointing to the dimmed screen showing the camera across the street. The headshake and light touch are greeted with a pause and a gesture consisting of pointing at the ceiling and describing a circle. The neighbors, if any are awake. People who go into houses do not sneak about in the dark. For emphasis, she pantomimes sleeping, then waking up...then walking to, say, the bathroom. She tips her head to one side, waiting for further comment from her companion. He nods, raising one finger to say "wait" - and with one gloved hand, closes the curtains at the front of the house before signalling to her to hit the lights. She nods, then very gently flips the light switch. The room seems to be in order, as if the occupant stepped out with every intent to return. The woman who lives here has simply vanished into thin air.(edited) Marcus begins to search the room quickly, efficiently, and neatly. He's looking for a calendar iwth notes, a schedule, a diary. If there's an answering machine, are there messages? Meanwhile, the woman with him pads off upstairs, checking for similar things. She might also be attempting to get a feel for the occupant and thus a way to divine why she has gone missing. There is nothing incriminating or particularly insightful in the front room. Who has answering machines in 2024, anyway? Or paper day planners? The taller man is doing something similar downstairs - making sure to turn the lights off and on as he leaves and enters the rooms - if he's going to pretend that he lives there, he'll take the time to make the illusion complete - making sure that the curtains are closed before the lights are on. He (very tentatively) opens the fridge and freezer to see what's inside - more "organic, free range meat" - perhaps - and any kind of communication device with the outside world. No landline. The computer is still there, a slimline laptop. No unlabeled packages in the refrigerator or freezer that are not obviously leftovers. Just a home lacking its person. He takes a USB key from his pocket and puts it into the laptop before turning it on - the laptop boots to the setup menu, and loads an OS from the USB stick, giving access to the harddrive. He opens calendar, email, and internet search history - let's see if we can find where she thought she was going. If she keeps appointments, she does not keep them synced to her laptop. Email is nondescript enough to pass as just common correspondence but may have additional meaning to Brujah and their associates. He prepares another USB key as a hard-drive dump to be reviewed from his office before looking for a way into the basement. The crawlspaces has no dead bodies or other horrors. Only fire ants and other mundane miseries native to Texas crawlspaces. He makes one more check around the ground floor looking for anything out of the ordinary - or any subscription-based services (bills, magazines, anything) that would indicate there might be a forwarding address before going upstairs to join his companion. Upstairs, his companion is very carefully going through drawers in the bedroom, making sure everything goes back as closely to where it came from as possible. The slow, deliberate sensitivity and respect given to the ghoul's belongings is out of character for a Kindred her age, but not for the woman herself. The bright blue gloves are jarring, far too clinical for the setting and job. a cough, and then a hand is placed on her shoulder "Anything, yet?" "No. Just started. You search the other side." The reply is almost merely an exhalation. He nods, silently, and goes to the other side of the room - under the bed, between matress and box spring, and then opens the closet. He takes his phone out again, and scans the electrical outlets for a void signal - maybe something is hiding behind a false outlet. Under the mattress is a rather battered spiral bound notebook among the other sundry things that seem to make their way there. She steps towards his companion, showing her the notebook silently, before leafing through it, skimming words, but photographing every page meticulously. If there are blank pages - or blank spots on the page - he raises the page to the light first, and then swipes a small black light across. If pages appear to be missing, he tests the back for indents. Peering over his shoulder, the smaller woman very carefully attempts to commandeer the notebook. Whatever notations are within have caught her interest. She compresses her lips. He notices the presence behind him, and gives the notebook to the woman, noting his place. "What do you see?" "Trouble." "Then let's finish searching and make fast our retreat." She nods, tucking the notebook into a pocket instead of putting it back. "We have more work to do this evening." He returns to the bed, finishing his search before moving to the closet. The woman finishes going through drawers and steps back with a sigh. "Ready?" He nods, still silent, and motions for her to lead then out the house. He flicks the lights off as they go, finally reaching the front door. He turns off the last light, motioning with his hands to indicate "front or back?" A noncommittal shrug. He gestures towards the front door, but raises his finger, and again scans the camera - waiting until it is just out of range, he opens the door, locks it, and steps out with her. Still unhurried, she turns her face away from the direction they came, ambling off towards the no-mans-land between the land of the sane and the territory under potential Sabbat control. Meanwhile, at Inspire tech… The mad Seer finds his way into lobby of his co-conspiritor's labratory and politely waits for someone to show up. A blond-haired head pops up from behind a desk with a tall counter divider. "Hello. Welcome to InspireTech. Can I help you?" Kyle Matheson greets the visitor with a smile. "Dr. Marsden may not know it yet, but she is expecting me. If you would be so kind as to inform her that her old friend Enoch would like a moment of her time." The Malkavian smiles cordially. "I'll see if she is available to speak with you." Kyle turns back to his computer and types rapidly; one might assume he is messaging his employer. The vampire stands eerily still, waiting, patiently. After a few minutes, Victoria walks through the double doors. "Enoch, my friend. It is a pleasure to see you. Would you care to come back? I am working on a project that may be of interest to you." "Certainly, Victoria. Thank you for your time." He takes off his hat and nods to Kyle. "Thank you as well, sir." and follows the scientist into her lab Through the double doors is a bright white room. Metal-topped tables with sinks and taps are arranged in rows, and around the outside edges are cabinets, countertops, and various scientific equipment. Victoria guides Enoch to one in particular on the back wall. "I have been working on the second stage of our plan. These vials -" She gestures to a few boxes filled with orderly rows of vials to the left of the machine "-contain treatment for the outbreak that is coming to Chinatown. It is only a matter of time. If you would be so kind as to step into my office." She moves toward a door with closed blinds across the room, back beside the doors where they entered the laboratory. Enoch follows. "I am sure that Sam would like an update as well" Victoria leads Enoch into her personal office. It is unremarkable. There is a whiteboard on the wall with various scribbled notes and compounds in green. There is a black wood desk with a pair of chairs in front of it and a modern executive office chair behind. A laptop sits on the desk and to its left, a tablet. In the corner is a floor-to-ceiling black cabinet for coats. "So first thing is first. I suppose you do not want to what is that saying.... 'Shit where you eat?' and we will still needing to be finding a place of residence, It will most likely need to house..." He pauses and thinks... "Better make it five, and for occult geomancy, I would prefer it to be on a flowing body of water like a river., That, however, requires impressing Gordon, and While I am comfortable Staying at my Primogen's Estate. I would prefer to get my childe somewhere I can directly monitor him." "Will our ability to move unhindered and unheeded in Chinatown shortly be sufficient? Impressing this Prince is hard to gauge." "I am unsure, I think so, because, technically i don't need to ask for Sam and his pet Gangrel, They will probably both sleep in the ground in one way or another." "Still, I would like them to have options. Safety involves versatility." She taps her finger against her temple twice. Enoch rolls his eyes with a sigh as he closes them and empties his mind Victoria opens her eyes and looks at Enoch. "So there is that. I like to be prepared for contingencies. But our partner does not yet know." The Seer's dead lungs suddenly are gasping for air, his hat hits the floor, his card box hits the desk and cards scatter everywhere, three are face up, The High Priestess, The 8 of Wands and The Sun. His pale fingertips turn even whiter as they claw at the desktop, trying to keep him off his knees and subsequently the floor. Poor Victoria, She is still sharing headspace with the prophet... Victoria stumbles backward, one arm flung across her face, the other, palm out, as if she somehow means to defend herself from the Seer. The fingers arc and clutch as a hot, dry wind swirls about the office. Flames erupt from her outstretched hand. "Allah la'na anti, Malkavian!" The Malkavian winces back, holding a arm across his face, as if it would defend him from his compatriot. "Pax, Mercutio, Pax, Tu narro de Ghed..." To himself, perhaps? His eyes still crying tears of blood he reaches down to his cards and holds the three outright. "The High Priestess Seeks to engage in the ultimate battle between good and evil, and the result is bitter ashes for all."(edited) Victoria straightens slowly as the connection between their minds is severed. The hand fire extinguishes, her arms return to her sides. She shakes her head. "That was poorly timed, Enoch." The Seer Glares at her as he starts to mop the blood off the floor with a hand covered in a bandanna, and pick up his cards carefully as not to mess them up. "As if you have ever known me to have a choice as to when one of the perfect ones comes through, but why waste time arguing. Ms. Ashview, I have cause to believe, is about to do something that may violate the Blood Accords. I think she would be indebted to you if you were to offer your assistance." Victoria's expression is grim. "Should she be wise enough to accept. I am not bound by the same rules." She pulls out her phone and sends a text. Enoch has been texting this entire time. "The far side of the river's most southerly bend." "Go, I'll stay here, Wait for Sam." Victoria nods. She steps out of the office and returns a short while later with biomedical cleanup supplies. Then she is gone. Enoch finishes cleaning up the mess and looks inside the cabinet for what, maybe a trash can, and then disappears himself. In the basement of the building moments later, Enoch looks into the fridge and helps himself to some of the bagged blood Victoria has stocked, He sits down at the circular table and waits for Sam. The grate connecting the basement to the sewer system gets moved and Sam raises himself from below. He shuffles over to where Enoch sits and says, "Good evening, Enoch. Is Victoria here now as well?" "Victoria had to run, she had the unfortunate pleasure of being in my head when i received a Vision that the Keeper was going to pick a fight with the Sabbat and possibly violate the Blood Accords. As Victoria can act as a neutral party... She is lending aide as to buy favor, Please though, sit down and relax. She has said this is to be our home until we are officially granted domain." "I'm sure she'll recover soon from the experience of your insights. Describe to me what you saw. Why would the Keeper want to poke the bear before the Tower has established itself better within this domain?" "Honestly, the vision was brief, and tied to three cards. The Card that represents the Keeper, The card that represents the Jyhad, and The Sun, which by my reading means pain, suffering and possibly death. Due to the abruptness, I assumed that it was of immediate concern, and as always, the cards were right. Whatever the trouble was actually... Lets step upstairs for a moment." Enoch steps over to a spiral staircase going up. "I'd like to look at a map on something larger than a cellphone screen, and Victoria's computer is upstairs." Sam follows his former seneschal knowing that his thought process is both esoteric in nature and eclectic in imagery. Enoch Gestures to Victoria's computer inviting Sam to sit down. "Locked most likely, but i suspect you will not have issue." Sam uses his Computer skill to gain access to Victoria's computer. "Will Google maps suffice or would you like access to the County Auditor's plot mapping engine?" "Google maps will be fine, I just need to see the lay of the land as the river flows through the city" "No worries." Looking around, Sam adds, "We really should have her get larger monitors that we can utilize rather than huddling around this small device. I can create very secure channels for either direct wiring or through a low beam strength and high encryption connection system. It would be another tool to add to your deliberations and interpretations process." By the time he finishes that statement, Sam has entered the city on Google Maps and has set the scale to be of the city and its environs. As a courtesy, he switches from map view to satellite view. "hmm..." Enoch sets his hands down on the desk, and one accidentally lands on Victoria's Flashing Phone. He looks down at it concentration broken "She left this, and has alerts since she left. Strange." He shakes his head and returns to the map, his finger tracing the line of the river through the city. While Enoch loses himself in his process, Sam picks up the phone and takes a looksie at what/who is contacting Victoria and perhaps why. The Malkavian taps the spot the Keeper was talking about. "Brujah Territory, Headed for Sabbat Territory. Probably the missing ghouls." Sam smiles slightly at the news and puts the phone back where it was. "Interesting. I wonder if she simply intends to pass through or if she intends to obtain the services of a sympathetic escort. Is that where Victoria heads? To the Brujah's territory? And tell me of these missing ghouls. They are at times more hassle than they are worth." "At the only court gathering I have attended in the city the Primogen brought forth problems that their clans would like aide in solving or thought should be brought to the attention of the city. The Brujah Primogen, Ms. Sarah Moore, whom we are doing the bit of work for, mentioned that some of her ghouls had gone missing, but didn't expect anyone to raise a finger. There is also suspected Sabbat activity, so there is some supposition that the two were linked. The Keeper has a soft spot for the more human things in life, and is willing to risk a lot for freedom and safety for those she considers in this game but too vulnerable to know any better. I was going to talk to Ms. Moore tomorrow about her ghoul problem, as I have obtained some records of suicides in her district, and have not yet seen her intel, but the fact that Victoria is on this errand may prove useful in getting info from the Keeper without tipping our hand. Everything alright with the phone?" "Yes. Marcus wants to discuss chemistry with the 'good doctor' later tonight or tomorrow night. It seems that part of the plan is going well." "And Primogen Moore lost some of her charges. She would probably pay well for their safe return or reasonably well for solid information leading to their safe return. Do we have any knowledge as to the identities of these ghouls? We might be able to give Victoria an edge through some research of our own." "I have yet to see any documentation or visit any scene pertaining to the missing ghouls. There was a young man who was murdered after becoming the unwitting blood doll for a local Kuei-Jin. The Police ruled it a suicide, and as such, the Keeper obtained all records of suicides all over the city that the Police had on record going back multiple years. I helped sort that data, and have every Suicide from the Brujah's home district on file. The goal was to see if there was any cross comparison between what the cops had and what the Brujah had. I would be surprised if there were, but something could have been overlooked." "Did Moore migrate here as well or was she embraced here? Also, have there been any mass suicides reported in the past several years? Suicides of several people within a short time frame of say less than a week?" "I'm unsure of Moore's history other than she was here before the current prince with his edict from the Inner Circle to turn this city into a fortress, and she doesn't take too kindly to what she considers her city being renamed and made into a war camp, it is more than the usual Brujah-Ventrue Tensions. As for the Suicides I would have to check the files as a whole. I didn't see that sort of pattern with what I was looking at, but that wasn't the pattern i was filtering for, and I was also sharing the load of filtering the data with three other people." "A mass suicide event could be shovelhead episode by the Rebellion. Depending on location, it would give more credence to thoughts of increased Sabbat activity. As for Moore, I don't give a damn about her feelings about the Ventrue. I am concerned that her property is missing and could now be the puppets of our enemies to the south, other enemies -- hunters, or the potential of a serious breach of the First Tradition. Hopefully the Keeper has something more solid information on this matter than simply an emotional rush to do the supposedly right thing. Regardless, I am certain that Victoria will be able to glean more information than what we currently possess. "Do you have any pictures of these ghouls, names, when they were last seen?" "Nothing as of yet, Those files I get my hands on tomorrow evening. I didn't want to spook the Brujah as appearing over eager. I got my files together a day early, and I thought the early arrival instead of being met with open arms could be met with a punch to the Jaw, because, well, Brujah. I could reach out to Victoria and see If i can get her to pump the Keeper for info for us." "If we could resolve this issue for the Brujah and hence for the good of the Domain, it would be that much quicker for us to get a solid foothold and place within this Domain. However, like with all types of training, one must not rush the process unnecessarily." Sam steeples his fingers. "No. I recommend you keep to your timeline for now and we will all do what can to dance the dance set before us." He pauses for a moment. "Do you think the Keeper would do something rash in her efforts to 'save' or 'rescue' the Brujah's loose ends?" "Possibly, which is why i sent Victoria. Our friend is a bit of a tactical warhead strike when utilized properly. Hopefully the Keeper won't have to act." "Heh. Both of our friends are a bit of a tactical warhead strike when utilized properly. But, that is the way we have operated for a long time, my friend. And when we have had to act directly, our opponents did not know what to expect." Sam leans back for a moment and then smiles. He busily types on the computer and links this computer on a lengthy ID trail to finally hack into the minor database of unclaimed social security numbers. OOC: STS -- Sam is attempting to usurp social security numbers and splice them onto new identities that will be assigned later. These would potentially be presented to the Brujah Primogen as a gift for her ghouls to utilize or for herself if she still keeps a public persona. "Have the Brujah given you proper compensation yet for the ID I provided for you?" "We have agreed on an arrangement where they help us deliver the payload of infected cargo. All inbound shipping routes into the city are in their territory and under their control, and rather fight them for control, they will be assisting us." "Excellent. Good debt and shared glory are beneficial to us all. I'm also securing some new identities for the domain's erstwhile ghouls in case they are recovered and need to be reimaged. Unless of course, you or one of us need them." Sam raises an eyebrow making the last statement a question. "Hold on to two of them for the time being just in case. I may have need of one myself to get some credentials with the local authorities, and My childe may need one as well, as he may have gotten himself into some unnecessary trouble as he is want to do." "Of course. Has your childe fully learned yet what it means to be one of us? Sometimes the training takes a while to be effective because each personality is different. However, I have found that childr truly do need firm boundaries against which to strive. Without them, they do not grow and evolve into their true selves." "Maybe I need to be more firm with him rather than the laissez-faire attitude I have had since I was sure he understood the traditions, Problem is that he was a Soldier in the second great war, and that was what he was good at, but he doesn't want to be anymore. I think he would strive to become a mediator, but that is not something that my clan is well suited for." Enoch takes his phone out of his pocket and dials a number and holds up a finger to Sam for a second. Sam continues to type and secure SSNs for his project. Enoch Sighs and looks at his phone and then punches out a quick text message. "No answer. I'll await a call back and then see myself out wearing Victoria's face and meet you outside. If you would be so kind as to loop the cameras when i do to keep everything on the up and up I would appreciate it. I'm going to try to get the paperwork from the Brujah ahead of schedule, as soon as they get back to me." Sam nods and then does the appropriate work to set the cameras on the appropriate loop. Afterwards, Sam exits the building via the sewers and meets Enoch at a previously designated point. Enoch smiles as he concentrates and changes his visage to appear as Victoria, clothes and all. He picks up her cellphone and pockets it, before strolling out the front door, waving to Kyle, and disappearing into the side streets of Bon Vivant Meanwhile, back in no-man’s-land… As they walk, she rather pointedly ensures her long knife is loosened and her handgun is accessible. He walks beside her, giving her hand a quick squeeze before keeping his hands free to move for his gun. "Why are we going this way?" No reply. She does not squeeze back. "Darling, this would be a very good time to tell me what is going on..." He sounds concerned "She was scouting." He looks around, now that they are out of the area of the house. "Scouting what, for whom, and where are we going?" His voice softens, "Doris, we have five minutes to plan what to do next. Talk to me." "The wasteland between here and Sabbat territory for her regnant. You should probably report. I am going to see what I can find or cause to happen." Hissed under her breath. "I will see this through - with you - and report when I have something to report. I'll be damned if I leave now." Calm, quiet. "Are we expecting action?" He checks the safety on his weapon. A sudden thought crosses his mind. "Who is her regnant, and what is she scouting for?" In answer, she shoves the notebook at him again. "Make sure that gets back. Your job is to report. Understood?" He takes the diary and slips into his pocket. "It will get back - when we are finished here." He pauses, and he turns to face her. He never raises his voice. "Doris, you never leave your people half-way through a job. It's a leadership function. So I'm not leaving you until we've seen this through. Now. What is going on? In detail. I can have Rooke with a SWAT team here in 20 minutes if need be." "I do not know." She has not slowed. "I intend to find out. And I outrank you on several fronts." "Yes, Keeper Ashview, you outrank me. On several fronts. And I am here by the Prince's authority and on his orders. You can well imagine how he would react if my report is "We found something. The Keeper is looking into it, but she won't tell me what she found." If I was lucky, I would find myself licking Kenna's boots for the duration." A pause. He has not slowed either, keeping pace beside her. "Yet you know this. So I ask this - qhat ca n be so terrible that risking the Prince's wrath is an improvement? And in what universe would you think I would allow you to face it alone after I asked you to join me?" "You already know I loathe risking lives not my own." Flat. "You have more to report than that, anyway." "I know. And you know that I take that risk on myself." He pauses "Allow me to see this through." Softly. "Someone needs to escape and report back if things go terribly sideways." Grimly put. She pauses, pulls out her phone, taps out a message. She does not break stride. More texting. She veers off, heading towards the river. He is walking with her. Guarded. "I'll escape. I'm a very difficult kindred to kill - not AS resiliant as Mr. Blackett, perhaps, but close. If you expect things to go sideways, I'll bring Rooke with a team to keep watch. It will take them 20 minutes to arrive - I presume we have that long?" "Already handled." The phone is put away. "Very well. So what are we looking at - and what are we looking for?" "I will know when I see it. We have a trail to follow in that notebook, but it does not mean much to someone new to town." She shrugs. "But first, we have someone to meet." "In that case, let us aim to all return home safely together. Three heads - and six arms - are better than two and four, or one and two. And while we wait for our contact, give me the Cole's notes of what was in the notebook?" Eventually, the riverwalk with its tree-and-streetlight-lined paths flickers into view. There does not appear to be anyone. "Times and streets and dates. The rest was in some sort of shorthand. She was patrolling this district." Doris pauses a moment, ceasing her forward momentum. Then, softly, she mutters under her breath, "Angele Dei, qui custos es mei, Me tibi commissum pietate superna; Hac nocte illumina, custodi, rege, et guberna. Amen." He looks at her as she prays, understanding a few words. "That bad, Doris?" Quietly. "Does her notebook contain any reference of who she was patrolling for?"(edited) A slender young woman with dusky skin and chin-length black hair in a razor-sharp cut appears, seemingly out of nowhere. She is dressed in jeans and a black tee shirt. She wears a heavy gold necklace and bracelets. Marcus' eyes dart towards the smaller woman, his hand moving to the front pocket of his hoodie. "Masaa‘ al-khayr, Amunet." Marcus' questions are on hold for a moment or simply ignored as Doris greets the young woman. His hands return to his sides as Doris clearly recognizes the woman. Amunet nods . "Inshallah. But that is why I'm here, no? Oh--" she glances at Marcus. "I wouldn't, if I were you. But suit yourself." "I would prefer conservation of resources." "Forgive me, madame." His manners are precise and formal, in contrast to his dress, "it has been a trying evening, and extreme caution seems to be warranted." He extends his hand, in greeting. The woman smiles, amused. "So I hear. Doris, what are you up to exactly? Not that I mind the exercise." "The young man has uncovered some information as to the last known location of the missing Brujah asset." A thumb is jerked at Marcus. "I am going to see what can be seen." Amunet stretches her arms up, fingers laced, then leans to each side. "That could either be fun or incredibly boring. SO boring. But I'm here, so let's walk and see who - or what - we run into on the way." She falls in step with Doris. "Excellent." Doris resumes padding off in...the direction of somewhere. Considering that Doris clearly knows who the young woman is, Marcus is put to his ease somewhat - though still guarded - and falls in step with the others." There is much consulting of street signs and every evidence the little Siren is keeping some sort of time in her head. She is jogging occasionally now, with equally occasional and random stops to look around. Amunet keeps pace with the singer, but she keeps an eye out. If something is trying to sneak up unnoticed, they will have a more difficult time. Doris is more or less oblivious, now slowing down and scanning the area intently. The spire of the shiny new cathedral looms against the sky, uncomfortably large. Unpleasantly close. "Doris, did she mention who her domitor was?" "Later. Hush." She covers her ears, as if that will somehow make the music in her head stop a moment. He nods, seeming concerned. "She was planning on coming through here...where did she go?" She sounds irritated. Doris is walking in slowly widening circles now, out from the intersection. "The Riverwalk is covered by CCTV cameras. What date did she last come this way - I can trace her path through the cameras." He points upwards towards the nearest one. "You have the notebook..." Irritable grumble. Amunet follows his gaze. "I see. I will, of course, be with you." Victoria fades into the shadows. He flips through the notebook, looking for the last known notation in the area. Upon finding the date and time, he slips the notebook back into his bag, removes his phone and uses his NAPD Login to access the feed from the camera at the date and time, looking for someone's passage. At about 7:40 PM on the night in question, a woman who might or might not be middle aged rolls to a stop at the corner. Her motorcycle idles for a few moments as she checks cross streets, then she coasts forward to park. After then, she walks out of view of this particular camera. He taps his companion on the shoulder, motioning towards the picture on the screen. He rewinds so she can see it again, and motions in the direction the figure travelled as he pulls up the following camera. Doris pauses in her pacing to watch the screen once her attention is caught. She sees the same footage that Marcus just has. After giving her a moment to watch, he nods subtly in the direction the mystery woman had gone. A return nod and Doris saunters off in that direction. Marcus follows, a pace behind as he begins to review the footage from the next camera. Once Doris reaches the lamppost, she pauses. Waiting. Scanning the area for things that are out of place. A moment's pause: she pulls out her phone and taps out a quick message. Beyond the reach of the lights, Amunet would discover a motorcycle tucked away where it would be difficult to spot unless it was being searched for. Inside the saddlebags are a handgun and various repair tools in case the bike has problems. They are not going to help the damage the bike has sustained, however. A dove flies in from stage left, landing on Doris' shoulder and it coos a couple of times. A note attached to it's leg. "The prayer was cute, not necessary but cute. You need me? Where? I can be there as fast as this Uber can drive." The bird is surprising. Birds do not particularly like her, for starters, nor do doves of any stripe tend to be out and about at night. She mimics the call, however, and smirks at the note. Then her expression goes slightly vague. "Intersection of River and Mound," is audible to anyone with heightened senses. The addressee is not named. 10 minutes later Raziel walks up. "I got the Uber to drop me off a couple blocks away, and walked the rest of the way. Seriously what is up?" "Like the shepherd in the parable, we are seeking the one so as to reunite her with the ninety and nine." Oblique but not too terribly so. "Okay but why did you call me specifically? I mean whatever, I will tag along and do what I can. Just curious" Marcus looks up from his phone, and nods at the newcomer. "Mr. Raziel." A polite nod. Not unfriendly. "I was not expecting to see you, though you are not unwelcome." "Just Raziel... like Madonna... it is my only name." He chuckles. "Not the religious icon... you know what I mean" The grin is slow to spread across Marcus' face - it has been a difficult evening - but it broadens quickly, and his laugh is genuine. "Not the religious icon." He shakes his head. "Welcome, Raziel." "Anyway, what can this humble servant of The Lord do for you all?" "I am going to be amused for a moment that somehow you heard me and decided it might be worth your time to turn up." Doris half-grins. Lady Amunet is prowling the shadows, I suggest you assist her for starters. Do we have the next segment of recording?" "Amunet... oh right, the Settite." Looks at the assembled group, "You mean just follow along all quiet like, and keep my eyes open? Sure." Raziel looks around for a place to break line of sight with everyone. "Umm... if you will excuse me for a moment?" He wanders behind a parked van on the corner and does not come out the other side. a moment later he comes back into view "ummm for fuck sake... I need everyone to not look at me! It doesn't work if you are looking at me... Amunet..." He walks back behind the van a second time, this time he stays invisible. Doris continues to wait. Patient as a stone, this one. Marcus pulls up the next video segment. The woman walks into frame, then, as the camera pans away, there is a blur of movement on the edge of the feed. Then, as it pans back...nothing He looks up towards the camera. "She disappeared here. It looks like she activated celerity and waited until the camera passed her view went that way." He points in the approximate direction the blur must have gone to escape the notice of the camera. Doris nods. "It is a start. Although why would she run?" He pulls up a map of the camera locations around riverwalk. "Maybe she was trying to avoid being tracked by the cameras. Alternately, maybe she was grabbed." A search of the camera network shows that they eventually peter out towards the suspected Sabbat district. The woman on the bike does not appear in any further feeds. "No matter what, there is no trace of her from this point, but she disappeared in this direction." His arms circimscribe an arc indicating the approximate direction the blur moved off of the camera."Wait..." He muses, cycling the camera back to the previous time the woman was in this location. There is no evidence that the woman in question vanishes off-camera. In fact, on further review, she seems to make a point of remaining in view as much as possible. Marcus scans to the camera listed near her next sheduled stop, again cycling to see if the woman reappears. He doubts she will, but he will be thorough. Days prior to the day in question, she continues on the indicated route. "Either she knew this was to be her last stop of the patrol the night she disappeared, or someone arranged to have her diary taken back to her home afterwards." His comment is made aloud, still looking in the direction the woman seemed to have disappeared. Marcus pulls out his own phone, and runs a geolocation trace on the phone number he was given for the mysterious ghoul. Let's see where she may be. The trace returns the fact she is nearby? Odd. "People do not simply vanish. Even in our circles." Doris is continuing to pace, now in small arcs back and forth, squinting suspiciously at the cathedral in the distance. "No. They do not." He sets his phone to return the GPS coordinates of the missing phone, and set a map to them. Doris mutters, "...I should have contacted Cerriphan..." "Why?" He looks at the phone, and up in the direction the signal is coming from. "Let me text Rooke for backup, and we'll go find this phone, at least." The phone signal is coming from much closer than the cathedral. It might be in one of the nearby factories. It depends on how accurate the tracer is. "She could simply tell us what we are not seeing." The undercurrent of irritation in her voice seems more pointedly directed. A whisper in Doris ear, "You people are saying a lot of things, but none of it is making sense. Who are you looking for, why, and do you want me to just go walk into the cathedral and see what I can see?" Doris starts, then mutters quietly in Gaelic. "I do not want anyone going into that building alone. Ever. Not even you." And then, those of keen hearing and Raziel hear, in English'', Mister Antoninus found a lead on the missing Brujah agent. I believe he has managed to divine her location via technology. Or at least her mobile telephone. We are dangerously close to some particularly nasty people. If they are indeed infiltrating the city.'' (Phantom Speaker) Whisper again comes to Doris, "Well, not many things can sense me in this form if I don't want to be sensed. That said... can't open doors on my own either." “Not the proper time and I cannot show my hand.” "So what are we doing here?" "Finding Miss Moore's lost lamb or at least an idea of to where she vanished, because unlike other civil servants, I see my duty as keeping the interests of the ruled foremost." Almost snapped. "So we wait here? That is an option, and remember I can continue my vigil long past the time you sleep if necessary." Raziel whispers to Doris. Marcus: "What people do you suspect are in that building, Keeper?" "The enemy. It is, ostensibly, a Catholic church. This is Texas. There is no way there are enough Catholics in this parish to need a church that big." She waves a hand at the spire in the distance as she speaks. Marcus: "Then let us summon backup, and bring the lost lamb home." Raziel in his Obfuscate moves closer to the building, without asking permission. Allowing his senses to read what he can from the building. Doris: "We cannot break the Accord, child. We must be clever and cautious." There is a faint stress on the first "we." Marcus nods. "Then perhaps we can draw one of them out. I need only speak to it." There is again a whisper after a few moments, a slight breathlessness this time like he was moving. "The... there are beings all over. It... I have never heard the symphony sing like this... it is like the brick works, and chimney sound like ghouls. I... that can't be right. It must be some sort of a screen blocking me..." "...more than one? What is wrong?" Doris is, apparently, speaking to a disembodied voice. "Is there any way for you to feel - see - sense one person if I concentrate on her photo? "Do I look like Enoch? Leave the psychic shit up to him. No, I just have... what I can best describe as an Auspex ping and can tell what creation says about an area or person. I can tell individual aura... but if I have never seen the aura before I cannot say this person is that person." Doris sighs elaborately and eloquently, rubbing her face and dragging her hands through her hair. Then, after a moment's thought, a vaguly concerned look flicks across her features and she pulls out her phone, firing off a brief text. "Texting backup?" the whisper comes in. "What could cause the walls to also feel like ghouls?" "N...oh. Oh hell. I... can think of some reasons." There is now more texting. Doris mutters under her breath. None of it is complimentary and it wanders the gauntlet of Gaelic, German, and Maltese French. "The walls feel like ghouls..."Marcus glances at Doris and mutters "Tzimice?" "At least someone who has that talent..." Grimly. She compresses her lips. He nods. "I expect there will be as many as four Sabbat in there, with at least one Lasombra." Sabbat incursion to the region, missing ghouls, and a building with ghouls in the walls. He pulls out his own phone "Keeper, do you have a plan? If not, I have an unused safehouse near here. I have never used it, and it would be a good place to prepare." The implication being that if it is unused, it is unlikely to be under surveillance. "I have part of a plan...and I have both a daughter of the mountains and an angel. It should suffice." Fatalistic Doris. She does have a point. Either they have enough as they loiter, or they do not. "Toliver has been informed and will be bringing himself if not more." "We may well need more than that to dispatch what I expect to find in that building, Ms. Ashview." Keeping up appearances that he is NOT on a first name basis with the Keeper. He removes his phone and sends a quick text. "Lady Amunet is very good at at what she does. There are stories." Doris shrugs. "But go ahead and put more mortal lives at risk if you please." "Better to over-prepare than to find ourselves outmatched at the denouement. Consider it a reserve, held until necessary." The observation draws a noncommittal grunt from the Siren, who has commenced to hum to herself. She is studying the building, head tipped to one side. If rumors be true, she is quite possibly trying to decide how best to cause structural damage. The whisper comes in again, "This may also be useful to know, I have not had reason to use it... but my abilities are similar to the "Daughter of the Mountain" as you say. If I can remain unobserved in the place of my appearing behind my target, I can strike as I appear causing massive damage, and force my target to bleed heavily for many moments after. None of this damage is easy to heal. "Aren't we the clever lad..." The humming pauses for the observation. Doris sounds grimly amused. A whispered voice comes from somewhere, difficult to place. "Exactly how much damage do you want to cause here? Because I can create a minor distraction or something a hell of a lot more damaging. As you know. Are we talking people, the building, or, well, that thing?" After a little bit a motorcycle is heard in the area before stopping. some distance away. A minute or two later Toliver rounds the corner to the scene and is dressed to cause mayhem. Doris nods at the new arrival, then replies to Amunet. "Save what we can. Burn the rest. I do not give a tinker's damn about the bounty Brumfeld has on fleshcrafters. I know what they do to test subjects. Not even my worst enemy deserves that." "The only quarter they get is when they are piles of ashes before us." "I would not mind having a chat with anyone we can catch, but I am not keen on exerting energy on catching them." A shrug. "We are here for what is ours." "Exactly. Ms. Moore and her people will be here to help as well." "Oh? Excellent. I am glad she accepted the invitation." "They have a vested interest in things, after the talk I had with her. You have given them an opportunity and I gave them reasons to give trust. Now they have cause to act." The grin Doris answers with might almost be smug. It is certainly one of a woman well pleased with herself. "Careful, Doris. It is a small victory with Ms. Moore, right now. There is a lot more work to do." Toliver then checks his gear and limbers up as he knows he will be in the thick of things. "It is one step closer to someone owing me supper, as it were." Doris is still grinning smugly. "Incorrigible, you are just plain incorrigible." "My people are the best of three other clans." So, so smug. Toliver just shakes his head in disbelief and goes back to what he is doing, as there was no point in a lesson of morals with the woman at this time. "I prefer to speak with Ms. Moore's ghoul before she arrives if possible - and in private. I have no intention - and no need - to harm her." "You wanted to ensure overwhelming force, Marcus." Doris chides the much younger Ventrue tartly. It might be chastisement and teasing at the same time. After a moment's thought, Doris adds, "You may wish to retain control of the cameras in the area. Just in case." "Yeah there will more than likely many things that will breach the Masquerade." A whisper reaches Doris' ear. " Ready for mischief." Doris nods, apparently at nothing. Marcus holds his finger up as he secures the camera grid - turning the video feeds away from the suspicious building. After double checking that the building appears nowhere on the camera feed, he drops his hand and nods at Doris. "Good. Keep them occupied." "Could use a few trucks to sit on manhole covers to stop possible escape routes as well." "Can you arrange it?" "Let me make a call or two." Toliver walks a few steps away and pulls out a cellphone. Marcus nods "Okay. Let's do this right. And Father - if you can ensure that neither Ms. Moore nor Ms. West appear on scene until we are ready to deliver their ghoul back to their hands, it would be beneficial." "They are coming to support us here, and I will not stop them if they wish to be involved, they have a lot of vengeance built up they need to vent first." "That may have been unwise, Father. I need to speak to the ghoul - alone - for a few minutes. I will not harm her." His tone is cautious, and for once, no drink is evident anywhere near him. "I do not use the word "need" lightly." "And hell has no wrath like a Brujah stopped doing what they think is right, Marcus. I will detain them, but not fully stop them. Take the warning for what it is." Marcus nods, still speaking quietly. "She disappeared - under Celerity. We do not know whether under duress or under her own volition. I have to know the answer to that question before she is returned to the Brujah. I can find out quickly, and without harming the woman." He does not refer to her as an asset. "But I take the warning in the spirit it was intended. Thank you." Toliver gets off the phone and comes back. "Give it about 20 minutes for the trucks to take positions." He nods. "Good idea. Thank you, Father." A quiet smile. "I suppose it's hurry-up-and-wait now?" "Yes, it is, and it gives the others time to arrive as well, if they so choose." "Yes, there is that too." Doris chews her lip. "That is an unpleasant thought. Thank you for sharing it. Being above board about concerns is best." Around this time several tractor trailers trucks arrive and get situated parking a set of tires over the local manhole covers. The drives all leave after locking up the vehicles as they see a aman on the corner handing each of them a stuffed envelope for their time and effort. Teamsters, right? "...no school like the old school..." "Classics are always appreciated." Doris murmurs quietly to the air around her, her voice whispering in several ears at once. All right, my loves, shall we see what can be seen? I have some ideas for a diversion, so our friends not bound by solemn treaty may slip in unnoticed. ''The Siren finds her spotlight, a pool of light at the base of a streetlight directly across from the building they wish to infiltrate. She steps delicately into it, clearing her throat. Then, quietly at first, but slowly gaining in strength and volume, she starts filling the space with sound. There are no words, not really, only vocalizations. It is oddly compelling. raziel noting this "distraction" immediately heads towards the outer wall of the building. Using his ability to sense supernatural, he focuses as much as he can on the brick factory to get an idea of what lays inside, and what the Symphony says about the building. Toliver steps toward the building quietly and looks around. Trying to see what may be coming and what is going on. He does his best to not be easily seen. Marcus walks towards the building with Tolliver - sticking to the shadows where possible - he wants to talk to anyone who leaves the building ''The brickworks has several entities inside, mostly human. One human plus. One not familiar vampire. Something...not quite a person illuminating the ventilation system? No particular dominant virtue or vice. Just people. An extension of the...something...seems to be bubbling under the street, drawn by the odd, wild, almost wordless music filling the street. The poor dove, which has been tagging along all this time, is a ground zero and seems disinclined to flee the undead woman's shoulder, as if the call contains something compelling to even its tiny brain. Oddly, the doors across from her are beginning to list slightly outward from the doorjambs. a whisper comes to her, and anyone nearby "humans, maybe a ghoul, a vampire... and something... like what I felt in the brickwork of the factory I think..." Doris nods slowly, but does not stop singing. The doors continue to sag. Toliver watches the doors and readies to react one way or another. The doors collapse, crashing off their hinges. Nothing in particular fills the space beyond them. No impenetrable darkness, no horrifying conglomeration of limbs and teeth. It is all rather anticlimactic. Doris blinks. Then she folds her arms and waits for either a report or for someone to come investigate the draft. Marcus looks. Waits. Looks. There is quiet muttering from the Siren, "...what does a girl have to do to attract an audience around here?" After a few minutes and nothing happening, he looks Toliver and shrugs. "shall we take a look, Father?" "I told you to watch the cameras." Quietly. Marcus cycles the camera back towards the door of the church, setting the recorded feed to a loop from the previous day, while the live recording goes straight to his phone. "I'm watching." Equally quiet. Toliver looks to Marcus and nods as he steps to the door. Hoping that someone can direct him to what he needs to see. A single firebolt launches through the door. You cannot tell where it came from. Raziel moves towards the general vicinity of the fireball and whispers "What the metric fuck are you doing, there are humans in there, maybe innocent humans. What the fuck is wrong with you!" The illumination from the mystery firebolt shows the interior of the factory rather well, if momentarily. It finds something about midway down that is flammable enough. Now there is light. And a humanoid shape scuttling towards them. But just the one. An answer comes back, moving. "Initiating conversation." "If this is a conversation, remind me to not get in an argument with you" Toliver steps up to the door and the person closing to the entrance from inside. He makes sure Marcus is within reach and sight as he awaits to see the person closer. Marcus nods to Toliver from the shadows, and turns the camera away from the door as they approach - let's keep this Masquerade safe Raziel would notice that yes, that is indeed a Kindred. Creep Show/Conformist. This is not a pleasant person, but they have an obsequiousness that makes their aura seem almost oily. Part Grima Wormtongue, part Buffalo Bill, to put some pop culture on the description. The energy body surrounding them is...wrong, somehow, as if the body it encases is also wrong in a way not easily identifiable from the backlighting. The Siren's voice precedes the two men advancing on the door and the unseen presences that hover near. It seems to fill the space ahead of them, resonating off the walls. "Unacknowledged Child of Caine, what is your business here and why are you in violation of our laws?" Meanwhile, in her pool of light, Doris very calmly and meaningfully draws her sword. It hangs casually but competently at her side, low guard. To anyone standing near her, her lips move soundlessly. Her face is set in a cold, implacable mask. Raziel whispers, "vampire, and fucked up at that" Under the cover of obfuscate, Enoch finds his way to the ruined bike. He tucks himself behind it while his fingertips run over its surface, communing with its spirit. The motorcycle has seen better days. It remembers its owner desperately trying to start it, then getting knocked over. It took a lot of damage, as the woman tried to hide beneath it, away from her attacker, as she tried to find a way to summon help. The entity shuffling towards the doorway is given pause by the serious gentleman in unfriendly clothing looming outside and the challenge that suddenly fills his lair. It seems caught between the fire and the guy who is possibly the guy someone knows. Doris' voice resonates through the room again, repeating her challenge. Out of sight of the unknown Kindred, Marcus quietly withdraws his weapon, and eases the safety off. The round is already chambered. "I will not say this again, Child of Cain. What is your business here and why are you in violation of our laws?" The Siren's tone has been getting colder with each recitation. Now she is crossing the street, closing the distance between herself and the doorway. Marcus shakes his head and steps towards the unknown Kindred. "Show some manners and answer the nice lady. We are not animals, after all." He removes his weapon from its resting place and holds it - also at a low ready. For what it is worth, Raziel is moving through the door to the brick factory... with a presumption they did not think to ward a factory against angels. He is attempting to position himself behind the unknown vampire, but more importantly getting a better sense of the factory from the inside via True Voice "Who is it who challenges me? There is no Sherriff here." Heavy Eastern European accent. Might be male? Might not. The gait is shuffling. Raziel, now that he is not squinting against the light can see that "body modification" does not begin to describe the...person he has slipped behind. "What right do you have to enforce our laws?" The reply is as devoid of emotion as the Siren's face. Her left hand is extended, clenched into a fist. Knuckles first. "I am the guardian of our sacred meeting places and executor of His Grace's Wrath, Domina Doris Valeria Ashview, La Valkyire de La Maison des Rossignol. You will give me the kiss of peace or you will die, Child of Cain." Marcus quietly levels his weapon at the unknown Kindred. "You can see you're outnumbered here. Who we are is irrelevant - I suggest you take our offer." The Siren's hazel eyes slide sideways to rain disapproval down upon the gentleman to her left for a moment. The extended fist does not waver. "My patience is thin. Make your choice." Raziel whispers quietly, near the figure, "Choose peace." as that same damn dove flutters in through the open doorway past Doris carrying the branch of some tree. The as-yet-unnamed Kindred starts and jerks around, towards the whisper. He misses the incoming bird. "What the...?" He whips back to face Doris. "Who the fuck are you?" The moment is apparently beyond the vampire's weirdness threshold. Odd, considering he (at least he appears to have started out a he) is a serious proponent of extreme body modification. There are limbs where there ought not to be. Under the building, something slithers and stirs... "Were you not paying attention?" The question is mildly put, with a seasoning of pity and scorn. "I am your life or your death." The other vampire's gaze darts around the room. Cornered...or at least suspecting he might be. Is there a way out? Could a distraction be made? Toliver looks at the creature and gives a slight frown. "Stop trying to weigh options, you have been told them already. So, let's talk and make an accord." There is a momentary hesitation in the creature's demeanor, his attention swinging to the new speaker. There is squinting and an odd, all-over twitch of the various limbs. "I...I don't... I don't think so. Not with you. Pretty eyes, yes. Very pretty eyes she has, and a prettier voice to sing to him at night." Some switch has been tripped. "What else is moving Angel? This is but a toy." Toliver steps back towards Doris, knowing now that there is a danger for her. There is certainly...Something Unpleasantly Weird under the building, mostly concentrated underfoot. Still that faint trace of mortal life towards the back, where the kilns are. One weird fleshcrafter. A bird up well past its usual bedtime. The extended hand drops. "You have made your choice. Now suffer the consequences." coming from behind, Raziel stabs true with his angelic blade. Marcus looks at the Kindred and issues a Command. "ANSWER" her. now. Toliver jumps to action as his hands erupt into flames. He charges, at super human speeds, at the monster and lays into it. Seeing everyone else attacking the monster, Marcus steps toward Doris, levelling his weapon and aiming at the creature's head. The initial surprise attack catches the creature completely off-guard. Marcus' Command is lost in the ensuing whirlwind of Toliver's assault. Toliver attacks like the Brujah he is and with lightning speed he pummels the creature from all angles with his blazing fists. There is the sickening crunch of bone. Or at least you hope it is bone. One can never tell with this particular clan. The onslaught elicits a chittering wail of pain, followed by a snarl and more snapping as the Tzimice's form twists and morphs... Raziel moves quicker than he should, and disappears around a corner, quickly disappearing again, hoping to once again ambush. Marcus allows the Brujah to beat the fleshcrafter into oblivion, his eyes scanning for incoming threats trying to catch Tolliver, himself, or Doris unaware Doris is standing utterly still, on guard. Watching. Marcus might get the sense that he and the Keeper are not the only ones being vigilant... Raziel from stealth watches the Brujah go to town on the poor Tzimitsce but prepares to ambush and attack again The odd slithery noise resumes accompanied with a susurrus of whispers... The shadows quiver in the corners of the building, and Raziel is suddenly aware another prideful presence, In Latin it exclaims "Praise be unto Caine" and the choking darkness of the Abyss envelops the area behind the fleshcrafted monstrosity, consuming the Angel. Additionally, there is a FWOOMP from somewhere in the depths of the ventilation system, followed by a chorus of agonized screams and an ungodly amount of thrashing noises. Doris recognizes the darkness for what it is. Her voice cuts through the chaos, a wordless harpy's shriek, and she is moving with painful slowness in contrast to Toliver towards the shadow. At the edge of where she thought Raziel was, the floor begins to crumble. The Tzimice is utterly focused on Toliver, lashing out and trying to get the beating to stop. However, the blitz attack seems to have worked noticeable damage on the transmogrified Kindred. Marcus follows close at the Siren's heels, weapon at the ready - looking for a target - or the missing ghoul. Doris is oblivious to ancillary damage as she charges forward, another shriek accompanying her forward progress. There is more crumbling, the floor responding to her voice by buckling. A flailing claw from the Tzimice knocks her sprawling... Marcus takes two steps and pulls her to her feet, before turning to the Tzimice and looking for an open shot. Scuffles of unseen motion from inside the shroud of darkness, tangible darkness ebbing and flowing perhaps? or something more? Toliver did quite a number on the Tzimice, but if Marcus is patient, there might be an open shot. He waits for the right moment, focused on the base of the skull of the Tzimice, and looks for an opening. There is no thanks for the assist, just determined slogging forward. She switches her target at the column of darkness, the wordless scream shifting into an angry, desperate shouting of the beleaguered angel's given name. Summoning him to her? Or just trying to use her clan's gifts to disrupt the cloud? Toliver again lays into the monstrosity before him, not leaving anything to chance. The far corner by the door suddenly erupts into flames, accompanied by screaming. The second round of blows staggers the monster further, leaving it open for Marcus' called shot. It is not looking well, moving slowly and striking back ineffectively. Meanwhile, another gout of flame splashes against the burning chaos in the corner, followed by the crack of a handgun. There is a thump onto the crumbled floor as a crushed...something is flung out of the pillar of shadow, landing almost at Doris' feet. The mystery fire is taking its toll on the master of the abyss, but it is too late. Doris almost stumbles over Raziels broken body as is slithers to a stop in front of her, his features twisted in horror. She wobbles, then drops to her knees and fumbles for a pulse, giving up almost immediately and attempting to revive him via mundane means. Then a crack opens in the earth below his body, and there is an unpleasant, unearthly glow below it. Shadow figures with no disenable features ooze out of the crack, scrabbling across the floor, and bodily drag his shattered corpse into the chasm after them. The crack seals after. Doris, despite all evidence to the contrary, proceeds to pat at the ground the way one does when looking nearsightedly for something small dropped on the floor, looking for the crack. Then she balls up her fists and hammers the ground a few times as if that will help. "Goddammit, give him back!" The earth does not respond. No evidence the crack was ever there remains. Doris scoots around to face the burning Lasombra and proceeds to begin cursing. Not swearing. Cursing. His blood. His ancestors. His descendants unto the seventh generation. She puts the full force of the power of her gift into every word. Fire and bullets continue to find the Lasombra. Toliver continues to lay into the beast some more trying to finish it off. His rage rising with each swing. "Why.... won't you..... .... fucking die! " Marcus turns to face the Lasombra - the father seems to be handling the Tzimice without difficulty. His face becomes a mask of fury - eyes burning red in the night sky - maybe the reflection from the fire in the building, and the weapon is sighted at the throat of the Lasombra. Transitioning from burst-fire to automatic, he depresses the trigger - emptying the last 25 rounds from his magazine into other Kindred. Both enemy combatants are quite the worse for wear and collapse. Almost as an afterthought, the fire suppression system kicks in, showering everyone with vile-scented, chemical laden water. Between the stink off burnt flesh and objects, the chemical and corpse reek of the water, and the discharge of firearms, it is a lucky thing nobody in the immediate vicinity needs to breathe. Having satisfied herself that there is no way she can effectively engage in the recovery of her now-missing angel, Doris sits back on her heels and chews her lower lip. After a moment, she pats her sides as if checking for her cigarettes. Her left hand comes away sticky and she frowns. "Huh..." is her only observation. It is inflected not as a vocalization of surprise but one of mild curiosity. Toliver's hands stop burning with a fury as he looks at the body before him. From his coat he pulls out a couple stakes and goes about finding where the heart is for the Tzim before him to make sure it stays down. "Ok! Head count people. Sound off." "Marcus." Amunet steps out of the shadows near the smoldering body of the Lasombra. She gestures at a stake. "Morts in the corner. And the basement Masquerade breach needs to disappear." "The...what?" Doris seems slightly out of it. A beat later. "Secure the building. Are the reinforcements here?" Marcus nods to Amunet. "Let's get any survivors out of here, and then glass the building. A hand on Doris' shoulder. "We did all we could. I'll bring Rooke's team with flamethrowers to clean this place up once we've swept it. "Let's tag and bag these Sabbat as well." "It is not the lieutenant's job to clean up our messes," Doris stresses. Amunet nods. "Any of you particularly good with humans? I'm not really, but I can show you where they are. Who wants to visit the basement with me? It should be out of commission." "I...let me talk to them. The humans. Unless there is someone who does not appear to be mauled?" Doris' hoodie is shredded from where the Tzimice raked or grabbed at her in passing. She frowns slightly, then pulls her cellphone from its pocket, studies the text message that caught her attention for a few moments as if having trouble comprehending the words, then taps out a reply and drops the phone back into its place. Otterbox. Able to stand up to the worst life dishes out. Too bad "Rated against Kindred brawls" isn't something they can use in advertising. "Doctor, if you could help me here. I need to make sure this Lick is staying down, and I am not too sure where it placed its heart." "I can speak to the humans - and get tge information I need" "Y'all started the fun before we could get here," Sarah's Texan drawl intrudes on the sprinkler noises and conversation. "Damn shame. Hope you left some for us." She is carrying a shotgun and has both Jackie and Baxter with her, in addition to a couple other Kindred only recognizable as having been at Court or at the Tailspin. "You forget to duck, old man?" she asks after a moment's consideration of Toliver. "Who? Use your best judgment. Just make sure they don't wake up. Wanna follow me to the basement when you're done?" Doris has resumed her baffled inspection of the floor, which shows no signs of damage other than her own attempt to create an extraction point for the now completely absent angel. Her forward progress along where the seam should have been is an odd "tap tap step" wherein she probes the solidity of the surface with her toe before walking heel-toe along the remembered path. Of course, this only looks stupid and does not reveal any further pertinent information about where the fuck the body went. "We'll make sure nothin' sneaks out the back. Y'got eyes on the sewers?" Sarah inquires calmly. "Trucks're a nice touch, but that'll only stop them from surfacing where we can see 'em." Toliver uses his best judgement and stakes the Tzim. He makes ready to follow the Doctor, before he is stopped by the words of Sarah, his wound knitting up slowly. "There was no time to consider dodging. I had to bring it down fast and hard. Glad you folk could make it, though. I am going to head downstairs and see what can be done with the mess." He then follows the Doctor down to the fight she was in. "We'll keep an eye out up here..." "Thank you, Sarah, I hope to have answers soon." Toliver heads for the basement. Sarah's attention fixes on Marcus. "You think our girl's here? Also...is Ms. Ashview all right? She's acting a bit fish." "Primogen, we followed her trail to a point nearby." Marcus gestures in the general vicinity of where she disappeared. "Saw her disappear under what appeared to be Celerity in this general direction." He points to the building. I traced her phone's location to this building and found one Tzimice and one Lasombra in residence here. If your girl is alright, I would like to speak with her briefly." He turns towards Doris and simply places a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?" It's a professional inquiry, but the tone suggests his concern is more than just professional. "Where did he go?" Doris mutters at the floor. Marcus leans down to whisper in her ear before turning to Sarah "Ms. Ashview seems alright. I am going to see what can be done with this mess - and try to find your girl. If I might ask, who is her Domitor?" The question is asked innocently enough - or perhaps it's just a young Ventrue determining which Brujah to bill for services rendered. "Never you mind that, you'll get plenty of reward I'm sure." A touch of acid. Marcus nods. It was a professional inquiry, after all. "I'm going to see what - and who - I can find." He enters the building after Toliver looking for surviving humans - or ghouls. He knows the face of the woman he seeks from the photo in Rooke's dossier - and if he sees nothing on the main floor, he follows Toliver and Amunet into the basement. There is a banging noise from inside one of the kilns. A regular thump, as if something the approximate size and mass of a body is colliding with the side. He pulls on the door to open it. Inside the kiln are various humans, most of which are not going to survive a trip to the hospital. Possibly for the best. Their faces have been mangled, all but one missing an eye (left), ears, and lips. The woman swinging back and forth and glaring at Marcus has just begun to be mutilated. She is at the Hardcore Odin Cosplay stage. '' ''There is also a slithering noise in the depths of the fuel plumbing. Marcus quickly brings the ghoul down from her bonds. "Keep your answers short, you may have noticed things are a bit dicey at the moment. Can you understand me? Can you speak? Can you walk?" "You're not one of them. You use whole sentences. Who are you?" Immediately belligerent, which is understandable. "You answered two of three questions by being needlessly verbose and missed answering the one question that matters most. I just saved your life, that is enough of an introduction. Can you walk?" "I can try." "Works for me. Though I will say I work for Mr Gordon." Marcus offers her his arm and leads her out. "Oh. Good." The woman has quite a bit of trouble walking but manages as best she can. Sarah cannot help but be delighted to see Marcus reemerge with her now one-eyed associate. Marcus looks at the woman. "Quickly, I need to ask you three questions." (Mesmerism "You will tell me the complete truth.") "Who is your domitor?" "Baxter." "Were you sent by his order, or did you come on your own?" "I was patrolling, on lookout. For him and his sire." "You were kidnapped?" "Yeah. Got jumped." "Thank you." He smiles, still supporting her as she limps towards Sarah. "Jeannie! Are you okay? No. Don't answer that. We can talk later." Baxter is surprisingly animated. At least he cares about his ghoul. Doris is pacing and fretting by the door, clearly restless in a way she has not been all night. She slips her phone back into her pocket. Toliver and Amunet return return from below. More stoic than before, if not maudlin. Marcus nods to Baxter "She's a good one, you know." And turns to Doris, again, a hand on the shoulder, and a whisper before going back inside. He closes the door to the kiln, mouthing the words "I'm sorry" to the assembled corpses-in-waiting inside. He turns on the gas jets, and sets the gas to feed back on itself, amplifying pressure in the lines and creating an explosion shortly after the kiln hits 1000 degrees - so about 5 minutes. He walks out the door, looking pale - almost ill - and says to the assembled (after Toliver and Amunet have left the building). "We need to leave. Now." "What did you...are you all right?" Doris switches gears once she sees Marcus' face. "See, Marcus knew what the plan was. Let's finish this," Toliver says to the Doctor. His face is grim. The light that is usually in his eyes - the one that suggests he doesn't take things that seriously - is gone. He is haggared in the minute or two he has been gone. "No." He shakes his head. "But it was the lesser evil." He turns to Toliver "It is finished. This building and everything inside will be vapourized inside of five minutes. It will be chalked up to a gas leak." Even his voice is robotic. Toliver looks at Marcus and nods. "There are too many things left behind that would cause the authorities to ask questions. it is better to chalk it up to an accident and leave very little rather than having us run around and take care of too many government officials who will ask questions." "We can talk back at the bar." Doris is quiet, withdrawn. Some feelings have been felt and apparently there are more to sort through. Marcus nods. Simply. "I know" to Toliver. To Doris, he tries to smile - it doesn't quite work, but he hides it well. "We will." He nods, and looks at his watch. Itis getting early. "My safehouse is nearby. I sent Rooke's team home." He turns to Baxter. The same Baxter (I think) who accused him of not caring earlier. "She's a good one. Take care of her, Mr. Baxter." There is a tight nod from Baxter. The Brujah contingent disappears into the surrounding streets. "Father, can I beg a lift home?" Doris sounds, for a moment, small and tired. "Not a problem, Doris. I keep a spare helmet in the saddle bag for such occasions." She nods, pads over to Marcus, rests her forehead against his chest a moment, then pads over to Toilver. She checks to make sure her sword is where it ought to be. Oh good. She must hve sheathed it when she tried to resuscitate Raziel. She winces. Instinctively, Marcus wraps his arms around her, and leans into her for a moment. He lets her go, and turns away. Toliver waits for Doris to be done. When she approaches him and gently places an arm around her shoulder and holds her close, to help keep her up and on course. He doesn't say anything. Category:Logs